


The Sun Sets, with you by my side...

by Harry1981



Series: When the Sun Rises [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Vorin, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield Fluff, Bilbo and Fili, Bilbo has adopted Fili, Consort Bilbo Baggins, Domestic Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Drama & Romance, Erebor, Erebor Reclaimed, Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, F/M, Family Drama, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Uncle Bilbo Baggins, King Under the Mountain, M/M, Married Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Mpreg, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Post-Quest of Erebor, Pregnancy, Rebuilding Erebor, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Siblings, Soft Husbands, Thorin Feels, Thorin is a Softie, Thorin is just going with it, Uncle Thorin, and Kili
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29977815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harry1981/pseuds/Harry1981
Summary: If he had thought that reclaiming Erebor would be the hardest thing he did, then Thorin Oakenshield was indeed what his husband loved to call him- an Idiot.Surrounded by a family he once thought lost, a mountain of Dwarrows with conflicting thoughts, another child on the way with the life of his Husband on the line, and chaos in general, Thorin was sure he would lose his mind.But he was a descendant of Durin, and descendants of Durin stood tall. They fought and made their points. So Thorin would happily navigate through the madness that reigns (because madness is what Erebor has become), fight his own sickness (they really need to spend that gold somewhere) and get used to this new normal (The 'new normal' was undefinable) while making sure his family- all of them- remain strong and together (THIS was the hardest thing he would have to do)Nobody ever said love was easy, after all.********Sequel to 'When the Sun Rises, I will...'. Can't be read as a standalone, unless you wanna.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Dís & Frerin & Thorin Oakenshield, Frerin (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s), Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies)
Series: When the Sun Rises [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899205
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44





	The Sun Sets, with you by my side...

**Author's Note:**

> HOLA! YES, I AM BACK WITH THE GIGANTIC SEQUEL TO 'When the Sun Rises, I will..."
> 
> Okay, so I had a plan! I was going to sit back, write the whole thing down, carefully plan the arcs and events and everything and then publish it near July or sth, revising the whole thing as I go. Then I realized that idea was plain stupid because when I started writing 'When the Sun Rises', Bilbo and Fili were just gonna be usual uncle-nephew and not Bilbo adopting him and Kili....so...essentially I need to let my characters take the bus.  
> I have been stuck on the first chapter for ages and have been unable to write the next one, so maybe this will be a good push for me to START WRITING. 
> 
> Anyways, hello lovelies! Welcome back to the drama of being a Durin and everything that comes with it! Fasten your seatbelts, because this is gonna be a ride. I have planned so many things but knowing these boys? Well...it might just go fall in a ditch somewhere you know? So, grab your snacks, be ready for absolutely erratic updates and enjoy the ride.

Thorin Oakenshiled was not the most proper dwarf. No proper Dwarf actually engaged extensively with creatures of other races, nor did they have a spouse who was not a dwarf. But Thorin Oakenshield did and everybody knew of his Husband, the Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins.

Make no mistake, he was a great dwarf. A G _reat Dwarf_. He was courageous and proud of his heritage, and a good king as far as things went. But he was also peculiar in some of his ways.

Lord Astrid of Erebor would tell to anyone who would listen that he had seen Prince Thorin near the stream that flew from Esgaroth to Erebor. He was accompanied by his Halfling Husband, which was quite a common sight. But what was truly shocking was that he was _bare-footed!_

No self-respecting Dwarf would show off his feet, or any part of his body. But Prince Thorin stood with his Husband and laughed, showing off his _feet_ to Men and Dwarves alike.

Even a few Elves, if the rumours were true.

Thorin was also not very fond of the Council of Erebor.

Which was how Thorin and Lord Avreli were found, engaged in a battle of words. King Thrain sat on his throne, the crown stop his head, but anyone with two ears of their own knew he was a king only in name. He watched as his eldest son and a Lord engaged in a verbal battle and did not even try to intervene.

Prince Frerin, on the other hand, was trying very hard to calm the two parties down. One was his brother, the other a Lord he trusted with his life. He had no intention of letting the blood flow in Erebor soon after the battle.

“We have worked in these mines, Prince Thorin,” shouted Lord Averil, his big brown beard shimmering in rage, “We have ensured that there is a home in these mountains. How can anyone else decide what is right for our Mountain?”

Almost every other noble shouted in agreement, looking around and nodding along.

“Nobody, is contesting that,” Thorin all but growled, “But those who come were once Lords of Erebor too. They have dreamt of making this great kingdom prosperous yet again. Would you deny them?”

“They did not follow you when it came to a Dragon,” shouted one fo the other lords, “Are they even honourable?”

“Lords,” cut the calm voice of Balin, but the irritation clear on his face, “Nobody is going to hand over the provinces and guilds of Erebor to Dwarves who have proved to be dishonourable. However, it must not be forgotten that these Dwarves are coming back home too. They merely want to be a part of life within the mountain.”

“It’s not right!”

“They know nothing!”

“Thieves!”

“QUIET!”

Old, he may be, and even half-mad. What King Thrain was not, was foolish. His voice carried the same tremor that his father had once carried, and his arm bore the same strength of Durin. When he stood, all went quiet, including his sons.

“Lord Averil,” he said, staggering in his words but none the weaker, “You think of the mountain and we are utterly grateful to you for that. But thousands of Dwarrows, forced to work under the watchful eye of men; they are coming back and they do not trust easily. If you try to force your views upon them, you would have a riot.”

King Thrain then turned to his sons, eyes clearer, “Frerin, Thorin, it would do us good to convene this meeting once the caravans have arrived, would you not agree?”

Neither agreed. Thorin looked ready to burst out and Frerin looked ready to scratch off his skin. But it was the Silvertongue who smiled and nodded, “Of course, Adad.”

Thorin grumbled in response. It was answer enough. Balin declared the end of the meeting. Thrain was the first to walk out, and Thorin followed him close. Just as they left, the whole Council turned to Frerin. There were no shouts, but a whole new discussion took upon the room.

“They would make this harder,” Thorin said as they stopped outside the closed doors of the council room.

Thrain sighed, shoulder drooping and eye narrowing in pain, “I know that, Thorin.”

“Then why would you push this for later?”

“Because these are not your Dwarrows, they are your brother’s,” Thrain said simply.

Thorin took in a sharp breath, looking away. He was aware of where he and his father stood, along with the rest of the Company. It was no secret that despite being Durins, Thorin and everybody else were treated with much suspicion.

“You don’t have support, _inudoy,_ ” Thrain said with a sigh, “This will end in pain.”

“I have the support of my Company.”

“Not, enough,” Thrain breathed, swaying gently on his feet. Thorin frowned at the shift. He reached out as Thrain almost toppled.

“Adad!”

The eldest Durin waved his hand, as if it were a mere inconvenience, and slowly whispered, “Is the darkness here?”

A pain shot through Thorin’s chest as he stopped the croak in his throat, “No, _Adad.”_

He looked up to see Dwalin already making his way to them. Handing over Thrain’s almost limp figure was no difficulty. They did not need to say words, the message was clear. For the next few days, it would be best if Thrain did not attend the meeting.

Dwalin nodded, an understanding in his eyes as he gently guided Thrain away. Thorin watched them go, something heavy settling in his stomach. When he had dreamt of finding his Adad, there was so much he had dreamt of. He was no stranger to hardships, but watching his Adad wither away in pain after going through that torture just made it worse.

The doors of the council room opened once again. The Lords hurried down the corridor, barely bowing to Thorin. He heard Frerin and Balin talking in hurried voices. Thorin closed his eyes, getting ready for another verbal battle.

“I feel like you are trying to start a revolution in Erebor.”

Thorin glared at his brother as he walked out of the Council room. Balin raised an eyebrow from behind them, trying to keep up the pace of the brisk walk Thorin and Frerin took.

“I am merely trying to put things plainly in front of the people,” said Thorin, earning a huff from Frerin, “I would rather have them ready for a change than hear their grumbling later.”

“Change is slow,” Frerin said harshly, “It takes time for Dwarves to accept that things are not the same. Erebor has already seen enough unrest for a century.”

“Then what would you have me do, Frerin?” Thorin demanded, turning to face his brother, “Send the caravans back? Because I assure you, when those Dwarves come back here, Erebor would face a change like none before.”

“A little patience would be great,” retorted Frerin, “Time to heal.”

Thorin snorted, taking a step forward, “Dis is barely a week away. We do not have time.”

“Laddie.”

Thorin and Frerin’s eyes were fixed on each other, far too many emotion searing through each of their heads. They were standing too close and had Balin not stepped in between, the brothers might have come to arms. It was not the first time it had happened since they began ruling together, and most likely would not be the last. It was a good thing that such fights were not known to the public, for Frerin was right. Erebor was at a very weak point, and a single wrong movement could topple the kingdom for once and for all.

Frerin was the first one to back off. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before adopting a neutral expression, “Yes, it is not that bad.”

Thorin grunted but stepped back as well. He refused to look at Frerin, afraid of saying or doing something he would regret later.

Balin cleared his throat, earning side glances from both, “It would be wise for Your Majesties to rest. The day has been hard. We can come back to this conversation later.”

Nobody had anything to say against that. With a nod, all of the Durins went on to their own housing- Frerin back to the village that he knew he would have had to vacate very soon and Thorin to the old rooms. Their diverging path was a constant source of the feud, and Thorin wondered how it would come to pass with Dis in the mountain.

* * *

No matter how good or bad the day went, coming back to his chambers always calmed Thorin. It gave him a sense of fulfilment, a sense of ease and everything that he had always found calm in before.

He would enter through his parlour, to leave behind the Crown atop his head and the heavy coat he would have to wear. The box on the table took all of Thorin’s beads- he preferred the two braids that showed his craft and his line, that’s it. He needed no more recognition.

It would be his nose that would be assaulted first, with the smell of whatever his Husband had cooked for the night. Rations were not as tight anymore, with winter having been left behind and Spring coming to Erebor with new gusto. The lands were no more barren, and though they were by no means as rich as the Shire, the Hobbit sure knew how to use the things in hand.

Trade was prospering with Dale, Laketown and Greenwood, though it was still in its early phases. They still needed to work out the finer details, and for that Thorin and Frerin would have to meet Bard and Thranduil in the upcoming days. It was Erebor’s turn to hold the talks, the last two having been held in the crawling woods of Mirkwood and the ruins of Dale.

Thorin would show them the true hospitality of Erebor.

But it was not the moment to think of such distasteful things. Thorin revelled in the smell of chicken and curry. His stomach growled in hunger.

The next to come was the sound of laughter of the people he cared most for. It brought a smile to his face. He did not need to enter to see what was happening inside, but he truly could not wait anymore.

The sight on the other side of the door warmed Thorin’s heart.

Bilbo sat on the bed, his back resting on the fluffy pillows. He wore a tunic, much like Thorin's and a coat overheard to protect his stomach, but his feet were bare as soon as the winter had ended. His stomach was much bigger than before, housing a half dwarven child that sure liked to kick their father at odd times. As much as Bilbo grumbled about the inconvenience, Thorin had seen him smile to himself.

On Bilbo’s legs lay Fili, his golden hair wild and untamed. No dwarf would ever see Fili without his braids, but ever since they had settled down in Erebor he had found ease. Bilbo’s hands ran through his hair, and by the look of Fili’s face, it was clear that he was taking the moment to just relax.

Fili’s feet were still struggling. Only a few days ago he had moved his knees for the first time after the battle. Recovery was slow, and at times it hurt him. But it was getting better as winter passed.

Both Fili and Bilbo were laughing at whatever tale Kili was spinning for them. The younger Durin Prince was animatedly showing off his hands, jumping at the edge of the bed, exaggerating whatever story he had deemed to tell Bilbo that day. It was bad enough that his nephews had seen him being foolish, and that Dis liked to tease by telling those stories about him to his nephews.

Thorin rested his head on the doorway and sighed. He was perhaps the luckiest dwarf in all of Arda, finding family he had deemed lost. His father, his brother, cousin and so many of his people. But as time had passed, differences had begun to pile up. He and Frerin barely knew what to talk about, though there lay a century worth of lost time. His Adad was sick, and once he was relieved of the ‘duty’ of kingship, he spent the time sleeping or working through the madness of his mind with a few Healers.

He had his family, yes, but there was also a distance that he was unable to bridge. With Dis just a week away from home, Thorin did not know what to do next.

“And then Uncle Thorin dropped in the stream, head first and absolutely submerged,” said Kili, and both Bilbo and Fili burst out laughing. Thorin’s cheeks went pink as he realized what story Kili was telling, “The next thing you know, he is climbing out of the river looking like a drowned cat. There is a crab on his buttock, a fish on his finger and his pants have fallen off.”

“All right, that’s enough!” Thorin said, perhaps far too loudly. He had lived through the experience and recounting it did not do anything to ease his nerves.

Bilbo’s face lit up when he saw Thorin. With a smile, the Dwarf made his way to his Husband and pressed a kiss to his lips, one of his hands resting on his stomach. Fili groaned, shifting to the side. Thorin sat down beside Bilbo’s legs before hitting Kili.

“Why in the name of Mahal were you telling that to Bilbo?” he demanded. Kili whimpered and climbed beside Fili, hiding his head under his older brother’s arms.

“Thorin’s meanie,” mumbled Kili, earning a chuckle for everyone.

Thorin snorted, pulling one of Kili’s legs, “You have far too much free time in hand. Remember, you are still a Prince of Erebor.”

“Yah, like fifth in the line of succession,” mumbled Kili, peeping over Fili’s hands, “I don’t need to do any work.”

Fili rolled his eyes, “Yes, just you wait. When _Amad_ comes back she is going to take charge of everything single-handedly.”

“That would be a sight,” said Bilbo, patting his stomach, “Well, anybody hungry?”

Nobody ever said no to Bilbo’s cooking. They had dinner on the small table in Bilbo and Thorin’s rooms. Once again laughter reigned over the table. Fili let Bilbo play with his hair where he practised his braiding. Kili sat down on the ground for Bilbo to practice in his hair as well, as Thorin recounted the happening of the kingdom to them. By the time the brothers walked out, they both sported rather childish braids but wore them rather proudly.

“It looks horrible,” mumbled Bilbo as the door closed.

Thorin smiled, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s temple, “It’s perfect for someone who is still learning.”

“Still,” pressed Bilbo, “I should know these things.”

“How pray, _ghivashel_ , would you know how to braid?” asked Thorin, standing up and stretching, “It’s a slow process, and even I mess up my braids at this time.”

Bilbo pouted but did not say anything else. He stood up too, wrapping his arms around Thorin’s waist and pressing his head to his chest. He could hear Thorin’s heartbeat.

Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo, resting his head on Bilbo’s curls. His shoulders dropped, and the tension of the day seeped out.

“Bad day?” asked Bilbo.

“The worst,” Thorin mumbled in his curls, “I don’t like politics.”

Bilbo hummed, “That’s why you have Balin, dear.”

“Well, not when it’s Frerin and me.”

Bill slowly patted Thorin’s back. Thorin leaned into the touch, allowing himself to melt into his Husband’s embrace.

When they finally pulled back, Thorin looked at Bilbo with a smile, “How are you?”

Bilbo shrugged, pushing back, “Just the same as every day.”

Thorin hummed, following his Husband into the makeshift kitchen Bilbo had set up in a corner of Thorin’s chambers, “Forgive me, I was unable to accompany you to Oin’s.”

Rolling his eyes, Bilbo said, “You accompany every week. Stop beating yourself about it.”

Thorin could hardly do that. Those early days of battle when he had left Bilbo alone still weighed heavy on his heart. There was so much he had missed. As it was, things were getting more difficult for both the kingdom and Bilbo.

“Stop thinking so loudly,” Bilbo shouted from inside the wardrobe, “I can hear you even in here.”

Chuckling, Thorin began to let go of the outer layers, “Yes, _g_ _hivashel._ Now, what did Oin say?”

There was quiet for a few moments. The only sound in the room being of their clothes shuffling. Finally, Bilbo walked out, wearing a huge tunic that served as his nightclothes. He was playing with his hands that hovered over his stomach. His brow was troubled. When thorin looked up, he saw Bilbo deep in thought. But he knew better than to interrupt. So he sat quietly, waiting for Bilbo to speak. 

“Well," he finally said, walking towards Thorin, "Remember how we were preparing for a summer birth?”

“Yes?” Thorin asked cautiously.

“According to Oin, that would be too early,” Bilbo said slowly, walking over to where Thorin sat, “He said...well, it would be better to hope for, sometimes close to Durin’s Day.”

“Durin’s Day?” Thorin asked, eyes wide, “That would make it-”

“A year, yes,” Bilbo nodded, “I told him Hobbits don’t carry that long, and he informed me Dwarves carry for 15 months. So...a year seemed like a good compromise.”

As easily as Bilbo tried to say it, Thorin still felt the shudder in his words. A year of carrying a babe...he knew women carried till nine months, but Hobbits were not meant for such stretches. Thorin pulled Bilbo closer, hands cupping his cheeks, “But what about you?”

“We are working on that,” Bilbo said softly, playing with the hem of Thorin’s tunic, “He said something about healing stones and breathing equipment. You can’t fault me for not understanding one word of it, and he has demanded you accompany me next time.”

Thorin smiled at Bilbo’s roll of eyes. Pulling him close, Thorin pressed a kiss on Bilbo’s temple and wrapped an arm around him.

If Bilbo let out a shudder in his arms, neither mentioned it.

* * *

Erebor never slept. Long before Smaug lay waste to the beautiful kingdom, one could hear the tinkering of the hammers at any given point in time. Closer to the earth, there would always be some miners down in the mines, looking for something because they wanted to. Even in the quietest streets, one could find a guard or two for a small chat before heading home. The warmth of Great forges reached till the very end of the Mountain, and it was like coming back home.

During those turbulent times, Erebor had still remained every watchful. Even with a dragon above, some part of the mountain was always awake. After what was dubbed as the Battle of the Five Armies, slowly and steadily Erebor had reverted back to its original state. With Dwarves from Iron hills inhabiting the space and so many things to do, one or the other part was always awake.

Kili watched his brother sleep on his bed, legs lying on an elevated piece to ease the pain. His face was barred from any tension though, and he looked comfortable. Oin had come to check on Fili just before they retired to bed, and declared that Fili was making good progress.

“You could be walking by the next Durin’s Day if it goes well,” Oin had said with a smile. It had certainly eased Fili’s worries, but Kili did not miss the mutterings of Oin as he walked out.

Outside, Kili could hear the guards taking rounds in the Royal Chamber. It wasn’t much different from Ered Luin honestly- there he lived in the middle of the city where someone or the other was always taking round, and the noise was expected.

But that was not why Kili was awake. He looked at his brother once more and heard the guards retreat. Slowly pulling off the covers, he climbed out of the bed. When he peeped outside, there were no guards.

Kili knew sneaking out was stupid, but he needed to. Grabbing a few of his brother’s daggers and his own bow, Kili tiptoed out of the room. The coast was clear, and he walked on light feet.

“Going out for a walk?”

Kili was barely able to slap his hand on his mouth. When he looked at the side, Dwalin glared at the younger prince, sharpening his knife.

“Dwalin,” whined Kili, looking around, “please?”

“Yer a prince,” Dwalin grunted, “Get your ass back in the rooms.”

“Please,” Kili begged, dropping on his knees in front of Dwalin, “I will be back before sunrise. It’s just Tauriel-”

“The elf?” growled Dwalin, fixing the younger prince with a harsher glare, “If they kill you-”

“Everyone trusts Tauriel!” he said loudly, before ducking back. Dwalin looked around, making sure no one had heard, before turning back to Kili.

“Everyone trusts her,” he said slowly, “And she doesn’t even live in Mirkwood. She lives in Dale. Frerin is good friends with her.”

“She can still kill ya.”

“Dwalin, please!” begged Kili, “I will do whatever you say.”

That gave the bigger Dwarf a pause. He stopped his sharpening and raised an eyebrow, “Anything?”

Kili gulped. He knew that look. Dwalin would not be kind to him, but he needed to go out. Being inside the mountain was killing him. He was a hunter, he was different.

“Yes,” he said, against his better judgement.

Dwalin grunted, “Fine. Be back in two hours.”

“Till sundown.”

“Three hours.”

“Four and you have gotten yourself a deal.”

Dwalin huffed but nodded nevertheless. With a grin, Kili all but ran outside Erebor. Dwalin watched him go, a fond smile on his face.

“Foolish kid.”

* * *

Ravenhill, free from the ice of dread, was a beautiful place to be. The waterfall was loud, and creepers grew over the broken ruins of the tower. Places where battles had been fought now looked like a garden, with stubborn moss and grasses growing in the cracks of stone. Coming summer, the Dwarven King would start repairs and Ravenhill would go back to the glory of its old days. But at the moment, it was a safe haven for Tauriel.

She sat beside the waterfall, legs tucked together and head resting on her knees. The stairs had been cleaned, and looking up she could trace the stars. If she craned her neck she could see the lake and Greenwood getting better. It always brought a smile to her face.

Tauriel heard Kili before she saw him and unwillingly found herself smiling. He stopped a few paces away, waiting for her reaction. When none came, he walked on and settled beside her.

She did not acknowledge him for a while, thoughts jumping from Greenwood to the world beyond. There was so much she had not seen yet, but just moving out of Greenwood had given her a world full of possibilities. To east lay lands unknown even to her, and to west lay places whose stories Kili told her. North was the land of men, and the south had darkness creeping around. And she stood at the centre of it all, the world waiting for her.

When Tauriel turned, Kili was mirroring her, though his eyes were stuck on her instead of the sky.

“What?” she asked softly.

Kili smiled and shrugged, “Nothing.”

Tauriel hummed, sitting up. Kili continued to watch her, a smile set on his face. She rested her head on her hand and looked back, “How have you been?”

“Bored,” said Kili, “I have no duties as a Prince yet, though I am certainly not complaining.”

As Tauriel giggled, Kili grinned, “Though Thorin still refuses to let me out on a hunt or let me join the army.”

“There is not much to do, I assure you,” said Tauriel, “Barely any orcs come here now, and the fauna will not come back until the vegetation grows.”

Kili pouted, “Pity, if you ask me. I am a hunter.”

Tauriel hummed, “I am sure you are, my Prince.”

Smiling, Kili sat up, looking at Tauriel, “How have you been?”

“Busy,” said Tauriel, “The lands have not recovered yet, though they are getting better. Next spring, we shall have woodlands lining these areas again. Bard is more focused on building things. When that shall get over, I will ask him to let me teach the young recruits." There was a certain edge to how she spoke, a longing Kili understood far too well. She turned her head back to the stars, something beautiful forming in her head, "I am a warrior, Kili- while growing things may come easy to me, it’s not my calling.”

“I understand,” said Kili, a smile playing upon his lips, “The Mountain is my home and the stone is calming, but the gems and works do not bind me as the woods and wilds do. Oh, I can’t wait for the caravans to come- at least then there would be some work.”

Tauriel let out an ‘ah’, gaze fixed at the sky, “Your mother is arriving, isn’t she? Lady Dis?”

Kili grinned, nodding, “Oh, I can’t wait to show her around! She has always so many stories! It would be fun to find all of those things again.”

Tauriel smiled at Kili’s excitement, but it remained otherwise dimmed. Kili did not notice the shift, too caught up in revelling the things he would do once the caravans arrive.

* * *

Mornings at Erebor did not begin with the rising of the Sun, but with the ringing of the bell. Dwarves awoke one by one, and by the time the second bell rang, the mountain would begin working.

Thorin remained asleep while Bilbo got up and got ready. He donned on an undershirt, followed by a tunic and a Durin blue coat. He hummed to himself as he braided his hair- the Ur clan braid sitting proudly on his side, followed by the marriage braid and the One braid on the other side of his head. His hair had gotten longer, and stray hair did not spring back over his forehead by midday anymore, thankfully.

With a hum, Bilbo pulled on the pants and patted his stomach. In response, Miracle gave him a kick.

“You are a menace,” he muttered to the babe with a small smile.

Once ready, Bilbo walked over to his Husband’s side and pressed a kiss on Thorin’s temple. Thorin hummed, opening his eyes with a smile.

“Morning.”

“Good Morning,” Bilbo smiled, “I am off to work. See you at lunch?”

Thorin nodded, stretching and yawning. With a smile, Bilbo grabbed his writing tools and walked out of the Royal quarters. He was immediately followed by a guard.

“Morning Rasik.”

Rasik, the dwarf appointed to Bilbo, bowed. He was built like Gloin, with red flaming hair and a penchant to fight anyone at any moment. He was handpicked by Dreya on the promise that he was a rather open-minded dwarf and would not go against Bilbo. While that was all good, Bilbo would have liked it if the dwarf actually talked.

“How was your day?”

“Good.”

Despite being used to the clipped answers, Bilbo couldn’t help but feel a little saddened. It was his life’s aim to get Rasik to talk to him, and he would eventually win. He knew that.

All through the winters, Bilbo had run around old houses to fix up residences for the Dwarrows. As his stomach grew, however, Dreya had all but banned him from working on his feet. Oin had agreed, and with the added pressure from Thorin, Fili, Kili, Vorin and surprisingly, Reya, Bilbo had to give up.

But that was not to say Bilbo was idle. Balin, the old soul, had seen Bilbo’s plight at being free and taken him under as a sort of secretary. With Ori being one of the only scribes under the mountain and constantly running around taking care of the library while also presiding over meetings, Balin needed someone close to him to handle the paperwork. Not to say that Bilbo loved it, but it was better than nothing. He was able to hone his diplomatic skills by going over trade agreements and reading letters that arrived from all over Middle Earth. Whenever they would get time, Balin would teach Bilbo Khudzul.

Balin’s office was close to the Royal Quarters, and like his and Thorin’s room had a small window which gave them sunshine. Bilbo smiled at the window before turning to Balin.

“Good morning, Balin.”

The old dwarf looked up from his work, “Ah, hello Bilbo. Good morning?”

Chuckling, Bilbo nodded and took a seat on the other table. Rasik bowed once before disappearing outside. Bilbo snorted, turning his attention to the pile of new agreements from Dale and the letters that had arrived.

“I have to say, you Hobbits have some very peculiar greetings.”

Bilbo snorted, “We are only hoping that you have a good day, whatever time we meet. At least we are not offering our services every moment we meet.”

Balin chuckled, nodding, “Aye, that is true.”

Chuckling, Bilbo settled down on his chair. He faced against the window, and his neck often tickled with the sunlight, but something was better than nothing. His desk was small. According to Balin, it had been his desk when he was a boy. That certainly helped because most tables of Erebor were mighty high. Though it was a tad bit humiliating that he needed to use a child's desk, Bilbo had come to terms with it.

His table was filled with papers, letters and pens and inkwells. Bilbo organized it each morning- agreements on one side, letters on the other and the writing equipment just in front. Once satisfied with the settlement that had Balin chuckling to himself about 'fussy Hobbits', Bilbo asked, “What is the agenda for today?”

“Well,” Balin pulled out a scroll from the bottom of his pile, “I have to be off soon to ensure that Thorin or Frerin do not wage a war. And it looks like Lord Thrain would preside over the meeting today again.”

“Oh dear,” muttered Bilbo.

Balin gave him a knowing look, which essentially said ‘what can one do’, “We are booked until lunch, and then everything’s regarding the upcoming caravans.”

Bilbo hummed, picking up the papers, “All right. We have the trade agreement with Dale- Bard has been asking for our grain requirements, so I will get that done today. This is the report on farming, I think. Transcripts, more agreements- oh, Balin, can I just move on to the letters?”

“Feel free to, laddie,” Balin said dryly, “I tell you these things will not have anything new.”

“Great,” said Bilbo, pulling out the bunch of letters, “So this one’s from the Blue Mountains, this is from Lord Elrond, this is from Ironfists?”

“Our cousins from East,” said Balin, “We do not interact much, but they have some good trade items.”

“Ah,” said Bilbo, putting the letter away, “All right. This is from Gondor. Hmm, another congratulatory letter?”

“A bit late, I would say,” sighed Balin, “Men.”

“Men,” agreed Bilbo, “oh, and here is Lady Dis.”

“The most important letter,” Balin said with a huff, “She would be informing us when she is reaching. Give it a read.”

Bilbo turned the envelop around, “Balin, this is addressed to you.”

Balin looked up from the scrolls he was gathering, “If there’s anything Dis doesn’t want others to know, she will write in Khudzul and she will write it only so I can read it.”

Bilbo still looked doubtful, so Balin said, “Laddie, I am willing to bet that Dis would probably be bad-mouthing her brothers and sons. Just give it a read and let me know, aye?”

Before Bilbo could respond, the door burst open. Both Dwarf and Hobbit looked up to see Dreya stroll in. Long gone were the days when she remained just civil to others. If there was one Dwarf the Company could count upon to call their own, it would be the former Queen of Erebor. She had taken every change in a stride, and ensured that the people were accepting of others. While the Durins handled the matters of the nobles and court, Dreya walked around the common people. Bilbo had found a fast friend in his sister-in-law and was certainly not complaining to have gained a new companion. They laughed and teased, and with every problem their Husband harboured, Dreya and Bilbo rolled their eyes and met for Tea. 

She looked around, bowing to the two. Bilbo rolled his eyes, and if Dreya's smirk was anything to go by she was doing it on purpose.

“We need the final list of houses fit for residence,” Dreya said without wasting any time.

Bilbo nodded, “It’s almost done, the last check to the east will be coming before elevensies. Shall I hand it over by lunch?”

“That would be great,” smiled Dreya, “Would you like to have lunch together?”

“Oh, I promised Thorin I would have lunch with him today,” Bilbo said with an apologetic smile, “perhaps sometime later?”

“Bilbo,” Balin interjected, “We have the meeting with nobles about space allocation today. I very much doubt that the three Durins would just agree on it. I think you might have to give up lunch.”

Bilbo pouted, shaking his head. He was looking forward to having lunch with his husband. He was always so busy and Bilbo missed having him around during the daytime.

Dreya laughed, patting Bilbo’s hand, “Let me rally the Princess and the Princes of Erebor. We can have a family lunch.”

“With Thrain?” Bilbo said dryly, “Sure.”

“You might as well get used to it,” said Balin, walking out of the room, “When Dis arrives she would demand family dinners.”

“Brilliant,” Bilbo muttered as Balin disappeared from the view, “Fine, Dreya, let us meet for lunch. Now shoo, if you want your report on time, leave me alone.”

“All right, your Majesty,” Dreya said jokingly, earning a glare from Bilbo. Shaking her head, she walked out, leaving Bilbo with a mountain full of work.

Making lists was something Bilbo excelled in, so he started there. He jotted down the requirements to send to Bard, and by the time it ended the list of housing arrived on his desk. He finished that and threw the rest of the paperwork for later to begin on the letters.

As expected, from Gondor it was a late congratulatory letter, an invitation for some obscure visit in the future. The Dwarves from the Blue Mountains and the Ironfists had written regarding trade, and Bilbo kept it in a pile for Balin to look at. Lord Elrond’s letter was more personal, asking after the members of the Company and wishing well to everyone. Bilbo was already formulating a reply in his head.

When he picked Lady Dis’ letter, it was close to lunch. He read it with a smile on his face, even letting out a laugh at points. But as his eyes scanned over the lower paragraphs, a frown began to appear on his face. He read the lines over and over again, just to be sure. By the time Rasik came to remind him of lunch, Bilbo had re-read the letter ten times.

“Oh dear Yavannah,” he muttered, shaking his head, “This is not good.”

* * *

There was a reason the Durins did not have lunch together. First and foremost, they had different schedules. Each Royal had work to do, and more often than not they would remain busy and take lunch wherever they were working. Getting everyone together was a feat in itself.

The more important reason was that the Durins were loud. They fought. Anyone who walked into the dining room could very easily think that they had walked into a battlefield. Shouting for everyone, food flowing, ale being passed around- general chaos.

Such was the condition when Bilbo walked in. Thrain, Thorin and Frerin were shouting. They were not fighting, but merely talking loudly. Age had caught up to Lord Thrain and his hearing was getting worse than Oin’s.

Fili, Kili and Vorin were shouting because they wanted to- princes of Erebor just being childish and stupid. The mother-daughter duo, Dreya and Reya were busy in talks, which were as loud as the rest.

Bilbo looked at the conundrum and wondered how exactly he was going to survive the family dinners. 

“Bilbo!” shouted Kili, “you made it!”

“Yes,” he said, as everyone greeted him with a nod, some a smile and others a grunt (read: Thrain), “Is Balin here?”

“No,” said Thorin, “He stayed back, some work. Why?”

Bilbo turned around to a guard and said, “Could you please ask him to get here? Dwalin too, if you can.”

The guard nodded, rushing out. Thorin frowned. “What’s the matter, Bilbo?”

“I don’t know,” muttered Bilbo, taking the seat beside Thorin, “I hope I am reading too much into this, but I have checked and double-checked and now I am just worried.”

“What is it?” asked Frerin, leaning over his place. He and Bilbo might not be best of friends, but they had a cordial and working relationship, “Is it the trade? Is Thranduil being insufferable again?”

“I can talk to him,” Reya said, jumping on chance, “Come to an agreement!”

“No, no!” Bilbo shook his head, smiling at Reya. The Princess of Erebor too had a lot of free time in her hands, but unlike Kili who revelled in it, she was going mad. Bilbo could understand it in some sense, but sometimes it was hard to calm the dam down, “it’s not Thranduil. it’s...Lady Dis.”

The Dwarves again began to shoot questions at him. Bilbo groaned, burning his face in his hands. They seemed more interested in shouting among themselves. Bilbo had no idea how but thorin and Frerin had found yet another reason to fight. So Bilbo was utterly glad when the guard returned with Balin and Dwalin in the queue.

“Everything all right, laddie?” asked Balin, after greeting everyone and taking a seat on the table, “The guard said you asked for me.”

Dwalin grunted and picked a handful of potatoes from thorin's plate before shoving it in his face. Thorin hit the dwarf in retaliation, earning a scoff from him.

“Yes, I did.” Bilbo nodded, “Take a seat, would you? Might as well have lunch as we get to the bottom of this.”

“What about Amad?” asked Kili finally as Dwalin and Balin took a seat, “Is she sick? Has something gone wrong?”

Everyone began to shout at once. Bilbo nursed his temple- he was angry, he was cranky and he was going to murder someone if they all did not shut up.

“Calm down!”

The dining room went utterly silent. Dwalin's mount was half-open, displaying a rather undignified look. Thrain looked bored, but he continued to stare at Bilbo from the corner of his eyes. Frerin settled down, glaring at Thorin about something. Thorin glared right back, but he had a soft smile on his face as he turned to Bilbo, looking apologetic. The others just stared at Bilbo, waiting for his words. Taking in a deep breath, Bilbo pulled out the letter.

“It’s a letter Lady Dis sent today," he explained calmly, daring anyone to speak in between, "Now, before we begin, how many of you have been writing to her?”

Thorin guiltily looked away, and Fili suddenly became very interested in his food. Kili frowned, raising his hand, “I have.”

“So have I,” Balin said, “Why?”

“Well, you see I was reading this letter, and news everyone, they have entered Greenwood, so expect the caravan within three to four days.”

Everyone began to shout again, and Bilbo had to thump his metal glass on the stone table to get everyone to quiet down.

“Thank you,” he said dryly, “Now, here’s the thing. She has said the usual stuff, yada yada, elves being weird, caravans at unrest and excited, will be reaching in a while- ah-ha!”

The Dwarves exchanged a look as Bilbo looked as if he had found a treasure, “Here’s the part: _The most surprising thing that I came to know, from th_ _e elves,_ _I_ _might add, was the fact that_ _Thorin_ _and my sons almost died. As you can imagine, Balin, I was shocked and hurt on not being informed of the_ _fact that I could have lost my family._ ” Bilbo looked up, glaring at everyone, “Has anyone informed Lady Dis of what happened at the battle?”

Each pair of eyes turned to Balin. He immediately went defensive, looking around with a guilty look, “Um, well, I did inform her that the lads had sustained injures but are alive and well.”

“ _Amad_ doesn’t know I am on the chair?” Fili asked, frowning.

“I did mention it,” Balin said defensively.

“I have told her,” Kili said, “I have written to her! I did not want to scare her.”

“Smart,” Bilbo said and Kili beamed at the praise, “But this gets better: _Thorin will have a lot to answer for because he has not written a single letter to me yet. If I had not received the confirmation that he breathes from you, Balin, I might as we_ _l_ _l have thought him dead.”_

“Ah,” Thorin scratched his beard, “I have been caught up...”

“To write to your sister?” snorted Bilbo, “Honestly Thorin. And this isn’t even the worst!”

“it is not?” Reya asked, frowning.

“Oh, no, listen to this: _I understa_ _n_ _d that my brother is buried under Kingly duties, but one cannot ignore family under th_ _e_ _pretence of so. Kindly let th_ _e_ _King Under the mountain know that his sister will be demanding a duel if she does not find a s_ _a_ _tisfactory answer._ ”

Thorin’s face became paler and paler as the letter was read, and Frerin found himself grinning at the end of it.

“You are dead, _nadad_ ,” he said, taking a bite of his food.

As Thorin glared at him, Bilbo said, “You are dead too, Lord Frerin.”

Frerin frowned, “Whyever would I be dead?”

Bilbo looked at the confused faces all around. He knew he was the only sane person in the room, but sometimes the foolishness of the Dwarves got in his nerves, “Did none of you notice it?”

As he was met with blank stares, Bilbo sighed, “Yavnnah save me from these foolish dwarves- she said Kingly duties! She referred to Thorin as the King Under the Mountain. Now, I thought that Lord Thrain was the King Under the Mountain at the moment.”

“You thought right,” Thrain said with a nod. That was perhaps one of the most civil conversations Bilbo had with him. 

“Well then," Bilbo asked slowly, taking great care to enunciate his every word, "Why is she referring to Thorin as such? And there is no mention of either Frerin or Lord Thrain here. Does she know of you two?”

What followed was utter silence. Everybody looked at the other, a questioning look lingering. Thorin turned to Balin and Dwalin, who shrugged. Fili turned to Kili, who looked mighty confused. 

“But that can’t be!” Kili cried, “I have told her of Lady Dreya. She said she was excited to meet her children.”

Bilbo sighed, “Thank goodness. Did you mention that those children also belonged to Lord Frerin?”

“I might not have,” Kili said in the exact same tone, before turning serious. That earned yet another groan from Bilbo.

Dreya shook her head, looking at Bilbo, “Are you saying what I think you saying.”

“Yes.”

“What exactly are you saying?” asked Thrain.

Bilbo sighed, “Has anyone told Lady Dis, in clear exact words, that her father and brother are alive?”

Nobody answered. Nobody had an answer. there had been whispers, of course, and the message was spread that Erebor was populated by Dwarves. But those letters were short to save time and to get the work done. Ever since the Dwarves had entered the mountain, things had been so chaotic and nobody even thought of the fact that some others might not know of the secrets of Erebor. 

“Oh Mahal,” whispered Thorin, “I am dead.”

“Oh yes you are,” said Bilbo, folding the letter and putting it inside his pocket, “She is arriving in less than a week. And from what I have heard, she will expect to know why she wasn’t informed of her family’s existence.”

The realization came slowly to all Dwarves, and when it did they all looked scared for her lives.

“Dis is going to murder us all,” muttered Dwalin.

Everyone agreed to that.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, do not forget to review it!  
> Also, I am on Tumblr! If you wanna chat or just fan over these idiots, find me at ragsweas!   
> (I don't know how to insert a link or find the link for my blog sheesh sorry)


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